


In the Visible World

by Mosca



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd, Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Invisibility, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:05:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosca/pseuds/Mosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd has the power to turn invisible, a secret crush on Stiles, and no time for Stiles's hare-brained schemes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Visible World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [broadcastdelay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadcastdelay/gifts).



> This is set in early season 2, in the alternate reality where Boyd has invisibility powers and never becomes a werewolf. 
> 
> Thanks to [Sandyk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandyk) for getting the plot unstuck and then beta reading.

Boyd had to remind himself sometimes to be visible. At school, being seen meant being called on, because teachers mistook his straight As for a sign that he wanted to share the answers to their questions. But if he let down his guard and went invisible, he got marked absent, and then his parents had to deal with a phone call from the office. Once, they'd had to pay to replace the desk that had disappeared along with him, and Boyd's family didn't have that kind of money to spare. When Boyd got home from his shifts at the ice rink, he'd often shimmer into transparency as he walked in the door, making just enough noise on the way to his room so that his dad would know he'd returned safe. He knew he hurt them by letting them see him so seldom, but by the end of the day, the strain of visibility became too much to bear.

Boyd possessed the perfect weapon against being noticed, but the more he wanted to use it, the more likely it was that he couldn't. For example, the morning that Mr. Harris pulled Boyd aside after third-period chemistry. "The Science Olympiad is starting up for the year," Mr. Harris said. "You'd be a great addition to the team."

"Can't," Boyd said, trying to squirm out of eye contact. "I work after school."

"It's only twice a week." Harris sounded desperate. "I could call your boss and see about your schedule. This will look good on your college applications, you know."

"So will having the money to pay for college," Boyd said. It was a weak excuse - the minimum wage he made at the rink wouldn't begin to cover tuition - and he doubted Harris was buying it.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" 

"I'd be surprised if there was," Boyd said.

"It's too bad," Harris said. "There are so many talented kids at this school, and none of you has the least interest in developing skills for the future. You're all too busy with lacrosse and parties, while the kids who _do_ sign up have the scientific aptitude of a Pop Tart. Don't be too cool for this, Vernon."

Harris had almost reeled Boyd in for a second, but conversational use of Boyd's given name was an instant deal breaker. "I'm not too cool," Boyd said. "I just have other stuff going on." He hitched his backpack strap up his shoulder and walked away. Fourth period was lunch. He hadn't decided which was worse: eating on the basement stairs, where it was gross and dark but he could turn invisible, or in the cafeteria, where he'd be visibly alone.

Everyone else was already in the cafeteria, lining up for food or staking claims to favorite tables, so the hallway had emptied. If Boyd ate fast enough, he could have an invisible lunch right here, sitting with his back against his locker. If he held his sandwich in his hand and tucked his apple under his shirt, they'd disappear with him. Pleased with himself, Boyd scarfed down his sandwich. As he crunched into his apple, Stiles Stilinski rounded the corner into the hallway. Boyd couldn't hold back a laugh when Stiles jumped at the disembodied sound of chewing. Stiles's aimless, panicked search for the noise remained hilarious until Stiles tripped over Boyd's invisible shoe and barely averted a face plant onto the linoleum. That would have been funny, too, if Boyd weren't horrified at his ability being discovered. But there was no getting around it now. As Stiles sputtered, "What the actual fuck?" Boyd made himself visible.

"Sorry," Boyd said. "Shouldn't have stuck my feet out."

"No, my bad, I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Boyd said.

"Because you were invisible when I started walking down the hall, or because my doctor needs to adjust my meds again?"

"Let's go with the second one," Boyd said.

Stiles stared down at Boyd for a minute, not the way kids did when they were about to kick Boyd's ass for the crime of existing, but not with kindness, either. "Nah, let's go with the first one. Because that's a really cool superpower."

"I didn't exactly pick it," Boyd said.

"So how do you get it? Does the Invisible Man bite you?"

Clearly, Boyd wasn't going to get away with lying. "Runs in the family."

"Cool. I mean, that's - a lot less painful than biting," Stiles said. "And your secret's safe with me. I know you don't want to have to explain it to people who don't, you know, know what's out there."

"Like werewolves?" If Stiles was going to trap Boyd into sharing, Boyd was going to return the favor.

"Yeah, like - what do you know about werewolves?" Stiles's confidence seemed to evaporate instantly into panic.

"I know some creepy dude cornered me at the bus stop and offered to change my life," Boyd said. "But he couldn't even if he wanted to. You can only be one kind of magic."

"So there's no such thing as _invisible_ werewolves?" Stiles said. "Well, I guess that's a relief."

Coach Finstock's booming voice interrupted them. "Where are you two supposed to be?"

Before Boyd could further ruin his own life with honesty, Stiles said, "I can't find my trig notes, so Boyd was getting his for me."

Boyd envied Stiles's talent for stupefying teachers with reasonable explanations. He envied a lot of things about Stiles. Seemingly without effort, Stiles was loud, fearless, and funny, the most visible kid in the room. He was good at being seen. For a while in fifth grade, Boyd had followed Stiles around invisibly at recess, trying to understand his secret. Boyd had gathered little insight, but he'd developed a crush that he was still waiting to outgrow.

"Fine," Coach said. "Get your notes and go to class."

"We have lunch," Boyd said. The truth was so dumb that it sounded like a lie.

"So go to lunch," Coach said.

Boyd thought for a moment that they might go together, but Stiles had ditched him by the end of the hallway. Boyd flickered away just outside the cafeteria doors, certain that no one would notice.

*

In math class, two periods later, Stiles sat down next to Boyd, slipping in just before the bell. In theory, they had assigned seats, but the teacher had long since given up enforcing those assignments, and really on enforcing anything except test grades. Kids sat with their friends, except for Boyd, who sat by the window and hoped not to be called on.

Boyd doodled in his notebook, tuning out the drone of a lecture on cosines and the hum of gossip. Stiles's whisper cut through the white noise. "Hey, Boyd, can you do me a favor?"

"Nope," Boyd said.

"I need to break into Mr. Harris's house."

"And the nope just got nope-er," Boyd said.

"Come on," Stiles said. "With your powers, we'd be in and out before he noticed."

" _I_ would be," Boyd said. "You wouldn't be invisible." Not unless Stiles was naked and in constant physical contact with Boyd. And now Boyd was imagining Stiles naked and touching him, and an erection in math class made him long for invisibility.

Stiles seemed to let it go for the rest of class, but he caught Boyd in the hallway after the period was over. "I understand why you don't want to help."

"At least you _understand_ why I don't want any part of your dumbass pranks," Boyd said.

"It's not a prank," Stiles said. "It's - I know this sounds insane, but -"

"Please do us both a favor and don't bother finishing that sentence."

"Listen," Stiles said, as serious as Boyd had ever seen him. "You need to be nicer to me. I could fuck up your life."

"So this is blackmail?"

"This is the way things are," Stiles said. "This is the world we live in, and it's full of monsters. Not all of them can control themselves like you can. And there are humans who know, and some of them will hunt you down once they realize you exist. So, you know. Make a friend."

Stiles could never be Boyd's friend. Boyd would always see how impossible it was for Stiles to love him, and that would never stop breaking his heart. "Fine," Boyd said, trying to use aggression to cover up the race of his pulse. "But this doesn't make us even. You'll still owe me."

Stiles looked surprisingly threatened, like he had just realized Boyd was a monster, and not a fuzzy blue one from Sesame Street. Well, good. "Owe you what?"

"Keeping my secret forever," Boyd said.

*

After his shift at the rink, Boyd met up with Stiles a block from Harris's house to go over their plan. Sitting in the front seat of Stiles's Jeep, Boyd fought to stifle the voice in his head that begged for a kiss. "So basically," Stiles was saying, "you sneak into his shed and see what you can find, and I'll keep lookout and text you if Harris is coming your way."

Boyd opened the car door and hopped out. "No way. See you around."

"What? Wait. So there's holes in my plan. Help me fix them." Stiles grabbed Boyd by the wrist as if he were strong enough to keep Boyd there. "You're smarter than me, and I kind of need - I mean, normally, I'm working with Scott, here. And he's even worse at plans than I am."

Stiles had actually touched Boyd and then paid him a compliment. Boyd's resistance crumbled, and he got back in the car. "First problem," he said. "Harris is home. We need a distraction."

"So I'll go to his door and be distracting," Stiles said.

"Like hell you will," Boyd said.

"I'm a good distractor. I get detention for it all the time."

"You say the wrong thing, and Harris slams the door in your face," Boyd said. "Or calls the cops, and then your dad comes over to ground you for life so we lose our getaway car. I'll distract him."

"How? Are you going to run him over with a Zamboni? Because being invisible is the opposite of distracting, and that's the list of your useful talents." Stiles's sarcasm pleased Boyd. It meant he couldn't hide his fear anymore, his worry that this would fall through.

"Harris is bugging me to join Science Olympiad," Boyd said. "I'll come over, say I changed my mind, and let him tell me all about the wonders of competitive science. He'll never notice the kid breaking into his shed."

Stiles blinked at him, mouth gaping slightly. "That's an actual plan. As in, not a half-assed thing destined for failure."

Boyd beamed; he couldn't help it. "Besides, between the two of us, you're the one who knows what you're looking for in there."

"Also, do you even know how to pick locks?" Stiles said. "I sometimes forget that's not a universal skill."

"See, this?" Boyd said. "Is a plan."

"So I guess I'll text you when I'm done in there?"

"Yeah, but don't take too long," Boyd said. "I can only sit there so long and pretend to be interested in science."

For the first time, after all the insults Boyd had hurled at him, Stiles seemed offended. "You're not interested in science? I mean, not science _class,_ but you seem like someone who would be."

This sounded like another compliment. Boyd knew better than to indulge in hope, but his defenses wore thinner every minute he spent with Stiles. "You knew what I meant," he said. 

Briefly, Boyd thought he might be kissed, but that was only a little more likely than Stiles sitting with him at lunch.

*

Boyd was bad at sounding excited about anything, but that didn't turn out to be a liability. Harris was enthusiastic enough about science that all Boyd had to do was nod and fake a smile until his phone buzzed with a signal from Stiles. 

"Can I use your bathroom?" Boyd asked Harris.

"Up the stairs and take a right."

Boyd followed the instructions but found himself faced with the choice of two doors, both closed. He picked one at random; it was not the bathroom. Instead, cages of various sizes lined its walls. In one, a glowing green creature flapped its wings. Boyd held his bladder and inspected it more closely. The creature's face seemed like a combination of cat and human, and it sobbed into its tiny hands. 

If he held the cage, it would disappear, but the fairy would still be visible. Its green glow would make it unmissable if it floated through the house. He didn't know how to pick locks, and if he did, he wasn't sure if he could communicate to the creature that it had to cling tightly to him until they were free. Besides, his grandmother had told him enough stories about magical creatures to make him wary. Sometimes, the ones that looked gentlest were the most deadly. Maybe Harris was keeping these things locked up for a reason. "I'm sorry," Boyd said. "I don't know what to do."

The creature sniffled and looked up at him. "Run," it said.

Boyd made himself invisible, tiptoed down the hall to the master bedroom, and jumped out the window, praying he wouldn't break a bone. He landed in the grass, bruised but intact. He'd suffered worse falls playing hockey. He couldn't see Stiles anywhere; probably, he was waiting back at the Jeep already. The fairy creature's voice piped in his head, and he ran.

Stiles's Jeep idled welcomingly. When Boyd got in, he heard chirping, and he turned to see a cage with a yellow bird inside. Its feathers sparkled in the dim glow of the streetlights. Next to the bird sat a smaller cage that contained a bright blue beetle the size of a baseball. 

"There's more inside the house," Boyd said.

Stiles shifted the car into gear and peeled out before he said, "Could you stop being invisible? It's even more unnerving than I thought it would be."

"Okay."

"We need to drop these guys off at the vet clinic," Stiles said. There was a long pause, filled with the heartbeat thrum of radio music. "How many more in the house?"

"I don't know," Boyd said. "A lot. A whole room. I can help you go back for it. If you want me to."

"We'll see what Dr. Deaton says, but yeah. I could use the help, especially from someone who doesn't completely screw up the plan."

"Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Boyd said. "I'm pretty good at screwing stuff up."

"So far, you're pretty much the most competent human being I know," Stiles said. "Unless, I mean, are you technically human?"

"I think so." Boyd drew in a slow breath. "And thanks."

"For what?"

"For calling me competent," Boyd said.

"You don't get a lot of compliments, do you?"

"Only from you," Boyd said. "And I wish you'd stop."

"Why? I mean, I have actual dreams where everyone compliments me on my unappreciated good qualities."

"Because I like you," Boyd blurted out.

The Jeep's brakes squealed as Stiles pulled it to the side of the road. The bird in the back seat chirped in terror. Stiles said, "You _like_ me? As in, like, _like_? Because I'm not a person that people like. I'm a person that people laugh at the idea of liking."

"Do you see me laughing?" Boyd said.

Stiles studied him. "Strangely, no."

"So there it is," Boyd said. "You can get back on the road now."

Stiles took off his seat belt. "Have you ever been kissed?"

"Nope."

"Me neither. Wanna?" Stiles didn't wait for an answer. Kissing was wet, and there was an unexpectedly large amount of teeth involved. Also, Boyd really needed to pee. But kissing felt warm, too, and brave. Boyd wanted to never stop. He wanted to die kissing.

"We should probably get these things to the vet before we traumatize them completely," Stiles said. 

"Probably," Boyd echoed.

"And then we can make out some more. If you want."

"You're getting better at making plans," Boyd said. "Pretty soon you won't need me."

"I'll find excuses if it means getting kissed," Stiles said.


End file.
